


Dance ‘Til The Stars Come Down From The Rafters

by sammichgirl



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Gen, No Wincest, boy/girl kissing, brother moments
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-17
Updated: 2013-03-17
Packaged: 2017-12-16 14:10:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,251
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/862905
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sammichgirl/pseuds/sammichgirl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What exactly DID happen with Sam’s prom date, Rachel?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dance ‘Til The Stars Come Down From The Rafters

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: Apparently I have nothing to do with the show or WB/CW beyond my imagination. Oh, to dream.
> 
> AN1: This story is the result of a conversation held in comments with anniespinkhouse who had some head canon on Sam, the prom, and Dean. So sorry it took so long, my dear, hope you enjoy!
> 
> AN2: Thanks to my wonderful beta deansdirtybb whose heart may have broken a bit with the hurt and angst here. I’m sorry, bb, I’ll make it up to you, pinky promise.

He fussed over his bowtie, sure it wasn’t straight.  He killed monsters for a living with his dad and his brother; this was just a date.  Why was he so dry mouthed and fidgety?

“It’s fine, Sam.  You look great.”

Sam turned to his brother; a boyish dimpled smile on his face that he had no idea would knock the socks off any girl.  _Including Rachel Nave_ , thought Dean.

“Yeah?  Think so?  I’m nervous Dean.  What if she wants to dance?”

“It’s a prom, dorkface.  You’re gonna dance.  Just do like I taught you.  Box step, four count.  And don’t get handsy.”  Dean smirked at the thought of that, the smattering of freckles across the bridge of his nose seeming to sparkle when he scrunched it.

Sam blushed, looked down at the floor.  “Not gonna get handsy, Dean, that’s more you than me.  But I really do like her.  What if she doesn’t like me?  Or wants to kiss?”

“Yeah, I know you’re more the quiet geek, Sammy.  But you can relax a little.  It’s prom, not the end of the world.  And she definitely likes you.  Been following you around for almost a month like a puppy.”  Dean chuckled at that, because truly, Rachel had been up in Sam’s space since the minute they hit town and she saw him at the diner.  “If she wants to kiss, let her come to you, shy boy.  You’ve got that innocent puppy thing going on, and girls adore that cute crap.”

Sam nodded, half paying attention to Dean, half toying with the perfectly in place bowtie.  He knew logically that Rachel had been hounding him for a good four weeks, but Sam wasn’t the lady-killer Dean was, so he’d been more than surprised at the attention.  Rachel always appeared to be extra googly-eyed over Sam whenever Dean was around.   Dean seemed to approve of her, surprisingly, and the way she treated Sam, like he was a treasure.  He’d told Sam numerous times that she was a babe and he better go for it before some other guy did.

Sam really did like her.  She was very pretty, and smart too.  She actually read the books assigned, did her homework without complaining and she and Sam could talk about any topic in the world with ease.   She seemed to like to listen to his voice, and she was always finding reasons to touch his shoulder, brush his hair off his face, let their fingers graze.  Sam had never had a girl so into _him_ , and he thought maybe he had a crush of his own, but was afraid to let that feeling spark because being a Winchester meant any day they’d be gone and he wasn’t a love ‘em and leave ‘em kinda fella.  He wanted classic storybook love; he was a romantic at heart.  That is why it had taken so long for him to ask her out in the first place, although she’d hinted pretty strongly.

When the knock came to the front door, Sam almost choked.  He and Rachel agreed since she lived just a few doors down that she’d come to their place and then Sam could drive them.

Dean saw Sam begin to hyperventilate and took action.  “I got it Sammy, you just chill out and breathe man, ok?  Finish getting dressed.”  Dean tossed a pair of rented pants and the cummerbund to Sam before heading out to let Rachel in.

Sam took a deep breath and sat down.  _Gotta get calm_.  It was going to be a great night.  Maybe he’d even get a kiss from Rachel.  A real one, not the peck he’d gotten from a couple girls in the past.  After all, it was prom night.  Sam grinned cheekily and flushed at the thought.

*****

Dean answered the door and gave an obligatory low wolf whistle and a wink to Rachel as she smiled brightly.

“Hi Dean!”  She slowly sauntered past him, stopping to give a catwalk turn, modeling the pale pink dress that honestly was not very flattering, but was likely what her family could afford.

“Hey there Rachel.  Sammy’s just finishing up getting ready; he’ll be a few minutes.”  Dean walked into the kitchen and pulled a beer out of the fridge, taking a long pull once he’d popped the cap.

“Oh sure, no rush.  We can chat instead, yeah?”  Rachel sat down on the lumpy, tattered sofa and gingerly adjusted her dress around her.  She looked up at Dean and patted the sofa.  “Come talk to me, I won’t bite.  Much.”

Dean raised his eyebrow at that, noticing the slight flush rising up from Rachel’s chest to her neck and ears.  He walked over and sat down on the opposite end of the couch and met her gaze.  Rachel bit her lip and looked away.

_Yeah, I still got it_ , thought Dean.  _She’s into Sam, but talking to her couldn’t hurt_.  He’d get her warmed up for his little brother to carry on the Winchester tradition of loving and breaking hearts.  Sammy was a late bloomer, he could use his big brother’s help.

Dean didn’t realize that as he was thinking about how to help Sam score more than just a few slow dances at prom, Rachel was slowly inching towards him.  She was chatting about some project she and Sam had been working on for English class with Shakespeare and _The Two Gentlemen from Verona_.  He was nodding along, smiling and keeping his eyes on the bedroom door waiting for Sammy to come out.

He totally missed all the cues she was giving, because for a month now she had practically been a lap dog to Sam.

So when she leaned in and kissed him, full soft rosy lips insistent and demanding entrance, he gave an automatic gasp of shock which had her thrusting her tongue into his mouth while one hand trailed up his inner thigh and the other pressed hard against his chest.  Dean squirmed, trying to break away, and Rachel seemed to take that as an invitation to move into his lap.

She broke the kiss to start nibbling down his jaw to this throat and over to his ear.

Dean was dumbfounded.  And angry.

Who the hell did this bitch think she was?  And what the hell game was she playing?  Deciding right then and there that Sam was most definitely NOT taking this skank to the prom, Dean moved into con mode.

He turned his head back to hers and pulled her down into what should have been a tender and sweet promise-filled kiss.  She seemed a little shocked at his crumbling resistance and went willingly, leaving his mouth full of the taste of ash and betrayal of his little brother.  He moved his lips over to her neck and shoulder, wrapping his arms around her and licking and sucking a small bruise into her pale skin.  She sighed in contentment, making his blood boil.

“Dean,” she whispered, “I didn’t think you’d go for this.  You-you’re not mad at me?”  She pulled back and looked into his eyes, mistaking the fire there for lust.

Dean could not even vocalize the disgust he was feeling, he felt like he was going to vomit.  He only hoped Sam would stay in the bedroom just a few minutes longer so he could get Rachel out of the damn house and into his car.  Instead of answering her, he kissed her again, leaving her breathless, then rose up and pulled her along with him towards the door.

She followed quickly, stumbling along, looking half dazed with excitement and not even giving a glance behind her to worry about Sam.  Dean opened the door to the Impala, resisting the burning urge to shove her in, and smiled that smile that had hustled many others before her.  He kissed her once more, not trusting himself to speak yet, and felt her melt beneath him down into the car seat.

He hurried around the other side and quickly got in, starting Baby up before looking over at the cruel girl that was definitely _not_ going to break his brother’s heart if he had anything to do with it.

He winked at Rachel, letting a slow drawl out, “Let’s get outta here.  Take you down to The Field and we can…park.”  He let his eyes roam over her, licked his lips and when she nodded and scooted closer to him, he revved the engine and let the gravel fly.

*****

Sam stood transfixed, corsage in hand.  After he’d given himself a last once over in the dingy mirror, he’d quietly opened the door.  He was hoping to get a good look at Rachel before he had to say anything to her, wanting to calm himself a bit, reassure himself.

Shock and disbelief could not even cover what he saw in front of him.

Dean was _kissing_ his date.  His big brother, who was everything to Sam including a best friend, was seriously making out with Rachel.  _On prom night_.  While Sam was in another room!

Dean had pulled her into his lap, and Sam could see Rachel’s excitement – no girl could resist Dean once he’d decided he wanted a taste.  He couldn’t blame her.  Who was he next to his super model of a big brother?

He couldn’t speak, and swallowed a very hot, hard lump in his throat as Dean rose and led her out to the Impala after a minute or two.

Sam stood in the doorway of the bedroom and let his fingers crush the wristlet of flowers he’d specially picked out to match her dress.

He only let the tears fall after Dean had peeled out of the driveway.  No, he couldn’t blame Rachel.  Dean was persuasive, Sam had seen him in action.  But he could blame Dean.

*****

Dean was taking the scenic route to The Field.  Kind of like a lover’s lane, it was near the edge of town.  The longer route was giving him time to think and plan his next move.

Rachel was snuggled up to him, leaning against him, one of her hands playing with the short hair at the back of his neck.  
Dean had never felt so much fury at something human.  Not that he could remember, anyway.  And certainly not at a woman.

Every time she touched him or spoke, he sizzled in rage.  He was pretty damn proud he was keeping his temper in check.  All he could think about was Sam.  Wondering what Sam was thinking with the two of them gone.  Praying he hadn’t seen anything, that Dean had gotten Rachel out in time.

Dean knew Sam was a logical thinker.  He also knew he had more than earned Sam’s trust and adoration over the 18 years he had practically raised him.  If Dean had gone and Rachel wasn’t there, Sam would know something was wrong, but that Dean was taking care of it.  _Sure, he’d think that._

Dean’s only concern was not letting what Rachel had done get back to his little brother.  Sam was not as confident as Dean was, and was a little more emotional than Dad had expected him to be.  He wasn’t a hardened warrior.  He still trusted people generally, smiled and laughed easily, and wore his heart on his sleeve.  Dean was determined that he would never find out what kind of girl Rachel turned out to be, and that Sam wouldn’t suffer a broken heart.

He’d figure out a cover story on his drive back.  Right now he had to get to the edge of town and drop off some unwanted baggage.

*****

“We almost there. Dean?”  Dean felt Rachel’s fingers trail through his short spiky hair.

“Almost, sugar.  Just a few turns.”  Dean kept looking forward, not willing to glance at her.

“I thought The Field was the other side of town.”  Dean saw her pout and furrowed brow from the corner of his eye.

“Yeah, sweetheart, I wanted a bit more privacy than the town’s make-out point.  Unless you _want_ an audience?” Dean smirked and let the implied reason for extra privacy settle over her.

To her credit, he saw her blush, as she stammered a breathy, “N-no, no audience is good.”

He pulled the car into an open lot, next to some rundown warehouse type buildings, but where the streetlights didn’t quite shine brightly.  Putting the car in park but not turning her off, he turned and pushed Rachel from his side, a bit roughly.

Her eyes widened and her mouth dropped open a little bit.  He couldn’t tell if it turned her on or if she was a little scared.

“Get out.”  Dean’s eyes were ablaze and he let the cold steel in his voice say everything he had been holding back.

She started to speak, thought better of it and cocked her head.  Her eyes were searching his and there was a chilled thread of tension in the car.  He saw the moment when she made the mental connections and her eyes turned icy.

“Get out?  I won’t get out, Dean.  If you have changed your mind, take me home.  Or back to your darling little brother.  I’m sure he’s still interested.”

“Get.The.Fuck.Out.”  Dean reached over her and opened the door, prepared to push her if he needed to.  This was certainly no lady.  He had no qualms about leaving her here, not one.

Their eyes locked, and Dean was not breaking first.  Finally she gave a little ‘hmph’ noise and turned to the open door, slowly raising herself up and out of the car.

“You can’t just leave me here, Dean.  How am I supposed to get home?” Her voice sounded broken, and Dean refused to believe there was any sincere emotion in it.

“Not my problem, sweetheart.”  Dean watched until she was out and winced as she slammed the car door.  He was anticipating a meltdown, and mentally counted to five as he put the car in drive and slowly pulled away.  He could hear her shouting until the wind didn’t carry her voice any longer.

“DEAN WINCHESTER!  YOU LED ME ON!  You can’t play that game with me.  You’re gonna be sorry if you leave me here.  You’re gonna be sorry you didn’t take what I was offering.  I know you wanted it. Are you worried about sweet Sam – “

And all Dean could think of was his little brother.  It was a good forty-five minute drive back, and the only thing Dean wanted from this was for Sam to not get hurt.  Sam believed in fairytale romance, and this was the first time Dean could remember a girl seeming to really fall for his dorky yet adorable brother.  What the hell was he going to tell Sam?

*****

Sam wasn’t quite drunk.  Pretty darn close to it, but he’d only had three beers from the six-pack in the fridge and was working on a fourth as he lay on the couch.  He could still smell a soft hint of Rachel’s perfume on the cushion.

The wave of nausea had passed when he stopped his blind rage to try to logically think through everything he’d seen and felt.  After a half hour of that he had just moved into a “fuck it” mentality.  Logic was no longer needed.

He heard the rumble of the Impala’s engine and snorted.  He was prepared for whatever stupid cover story his brother had come up with.  He was also feeling a tad bit bulletproof.

*****

Dean rushed through the door and before he could get out the word _Sammy_ , he stopped short.

His little brother was sprawled across the couch.  His bowtie hung down untied and his shirt was unbuttoned.  His pants – where were his pants?  He was in boxers and still wearing his dress socks but no shoes.  There were beer bottles on the makeshift coffee table and Sam had on a bitchface Dean had never seen before.  _Oh shit_.

Dean quickly looked around to see if anything was broken and noticed the destroyed corsage in the doorway to the bedroom.

Taking a deep breath, Dean stepped forward.  “Sammy, I can-“ and that’s as far as he got before he had a storm called Sam Winchester in his face.

“What the hell, Dean?  WHY?  You don’t have a problem getting girls, I’ve seen you.  Why’d you have to take the _one_ girl interested in me?”  Sam was yelling and crying, and swaying.  Swaying?  Yes, swaying because Sam was obviously drunk.

Dean reached out as Sam started falling forward; breaking their fall by letting them sink down onto the couch.  Dean was mostly sitting and Sam was half lying on Dean’s lap with his legs on the ground.

When Dean went to rub his hand on Sam’s back, Sam pushed back and off, grinding tears from his eyes.  The look he gave Dean was one Dean never ever thought he would see, not on Sam’s face, not to him.

Hatred.  Betrayal.

Dean tried again, “Sam, you know-“ and again was immediately cut off.

“I only know one thing Dean.  She was my date, could have been my girl.  But you made a move on her.  I saw you; I _saw_ you kissing her!”  Sam crawled over to the other end of the couch and pulled himself up and chugged the last half of his beer.

“You’re not my brother anymore Dean.  You’re a jerk.  A schmuck.”

Sam curled himself up into a ball and tried not to think.  He didn’t need this family.  He hated the hunting life.  He and his dad fought all the time.  And now his brother had broken his trust in ways Sam couldn’t even begin to rightly understand.  He could only focus on one thing.  The future.  Getting out, getting away.  Stanford.  It was just a few months away.  He wasn’t ready to tell them that yet, he still needed time to get his plans together.  But he knew Stanford was a place where he could begin to mend his life, to find the happiness normal people had.

*****

Dean watched as Sam basically cried himself to sleep.  There was nothing he could say.  Nothing he would say.  Better for Sam to think Dean was the jerk of a brother he imagined than for him to get his heart broken by some girl not worth remembering down the road.

Dean would take the blame. It was the least he could do for Sam.  He loved his little brother more than anything in the world, and he’d protect him and his heart as long as he could from the reality of life and the cruelty of people.  Dean was ok being the douchebag.

A lifetime of being everything for Sam wouldn’t be erased by this.  He was sure of it.  Sure Sam would be angry, resentful and distant for a while.  But summer was on the horizon and Dean would have plenty of time to win back his little brother’s affection, knowing trust would take longer to rebuild.

Dean reached over and rustled Sam’s tousled curls as he slept.  He pulled the thin blanket from the back of the couch and covered Sam up, moving his long legs out straight as Dean got up to head to the bedroom.

He’d start making it up to Sam tomorrow morning.  Sam was going to have a hell of a hangover and chocolate chip pancakes with the whipped cream face at the diner were guaranteed to bring out those dimples again.


End file.
